


Blame it on Mike

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-10-31
Updated: 2006-10-31
Packaged: 2018-09-03 07:35:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8703397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: Mike has sooper-dooper powers of persuasion, aka beer and a weak-willed Jared.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

Jensen's woken at some god-awful time of the morning by a _crash_ from his kitchen. He's instantly wide awake, glancing quickly at the clock to confirm that yes, it _is_ fuck-thirty in the morning, and goddammit this son of a bitch crashing round his apartment is going to have one hell of a headache by the time Jensen's through with him.

He slides out of bed, not bothering to pull a shirt on, wraps his fingers around the nine iron conveniently located just inside his bedroom door, and slinks out of the room. He knows which floorboards to avoid stepping on, and swings the club a few times experimentally as he glides down the hallway towards the kitchen.

There's another _crash_ , and a muffled _fuck!_ said in a voice which Jensen knows all too well. He rolls his eyes, slams the kitchen door open, and flicks the light on.

Jared flinches and drops the cookie jar. Fortunately it's pretty solid, and all it does is make a resounding _clunk_ against Jensen's kitchen floor. Jensen leans against the door jamb, idly twirling the golf club and eyeing the broken plate on the floor and the broken glass in the sink.

"Jared?"

"Uh, Jen, heeeeey...." 

Jared's not looking too steady on his feet as he leans down, picks up the cookie jar and extracts a handful of cookies. He shoves one in his mouth, then blinks and stares at Jensen.

"You wanna cookie?" The alcohol's brought out the Texas, as usual, and Jensen smiles inwardly.

"Jared. Fuck. You know what time it is, man?" He's honestly not too surprised; when he'd left the bar hours earlier pleading a headache, Jared had called him old and looked like he was about to settle in for a long night. "And Jesus, how much have you had? I could smell you all the way up the hall." Jensen waves a hand in front of his face. He's not really lying; Jared smells like he fell into a vat of beer, and he looks like it too. His face is flushed, his eyes are bright, and he's looking distinctly rumpled.

"Three thirty-ish, I think," Jared mumbles, spraying cookie crumbs everywhere. "Hey man, can I crash?" He leans against the bench, a foolish grin on his face, and Jensen's about to relent when Jared's face suddenly loses all color. "Oh man, I don't feel so good..."

Jensen gets Jared to the bathroom just in time, and once his friend is finished hugging the toilet, he forcefully strips Jared's clothes off, intending to shove him in the shower. He manages to get Jared's shirt off, no thanks to the idiot reclining on his bathroom floor like it's a king-sized bed, but once he's got Jared down to his boxers, he freezes.

"Jared?"

Jared grunts at him, and crawls across the floor to the shower cubicle. "Go 'way," he mutters.

"Nuh uh, no way," Jensen replies, running a hand over his face. Jared's sulking now, curled up in the bottom of the shower, looking absolutely miserable. Jensen shakes his head and turns the shower on full force, feeling some small satisfaction when Jared lets out a shriek at the temperature.

"When you've sobered up, come to bed. You reek, man. And brush your goddamn teeth!" Jensen slams the shower door shut and heads back to his room, crawling into bed and falling asleep again almost immediately. He doesn't think about the small tattoo Jared has on his hip, the one which hadn't been there the previous morning.

He's woken some time later when a large, damp body crawls into bed next to him and promptly wraps itself around him like a vine. There's hot breath in his ear and damp hair tickling the back of his neck, and Jensen rolls over to face his attacker.

"You sober now?" he asks bluntly. Jared bites his lip, gives him the don't-kick-the-puppy look, and waves his hand vaguely. Jensen rolls his eyes. "You wanna explain the tattoo, man?"

Jared's eyes widen slightly. "Uh. Mike..."

Fuckin' _Mike_. "What did he make you do this time?" Jensen falls onto his back and grins in the dark.

"Uh... look, you _know_ what I'm like when I've had too much to drink, and..."

"You're pathetic, you know that?" Jensen says, feeling less pissed off than he knows he should. After all, that damned tattoo is in a pretty obvious place when you're working on a show which requires occasional shirtlessness.

Jared smiles at him, his eyes gleaming in the semi-dark. Jensen absently leans over to brush a lock of hair off Jared's forehead, and inwardly groans. He's never been able to stay mad at Jared. "Go to sleep, you dork. And don't expect to get any sympathy when your ass is hungover tomorrow."

~*~

Jensen wakes up perched on the very edge of his bed, hanging on for dear life to stop himself falling off. Behind him is a snoring giant, long limbs sprawled everywhere, hogging the entire bed and both pillows. Jensen groans inwardly and remembers that he needs to get a bigger bed; he's been telling himself this for weeks now, and still hasn't gotten around to it. There's sunlight pouring through his curtains, and the sheets are pulled low on Jared's body, exposing the tattoo just above his left hip.

He tells himself it's girly and stupid and so goddamned sentimental he should probably hit Jared, but he gets a funny feeling in his stomach when he see the inscription. It's tiny, no more than half an inch high, in plain black typewriter font.

**J²**

_God_. He was completely fucked.

"Jen?" a voice groans from the head of the bed. It's scratchy and rough, and sounds confused and worried. "Whass goin' on?"

"Nice tattoo," Jensen says with a grin. He falls out of bed and pulls some sweatpants over his boxers, riffling through the pile of clothes on his chair to find a shirt.

"I... oh." Jared sits up slowly, rubbing the side of his face and running a useless hand through his hair. Jensen tries not to laugh; watching Jared wake up and try to look presentable first thing in the morning will always be amusing. Especially after what seems to have been a most enjoyable night out. Jensen's just relieved it's a Sunday and they don't have to turn up at set with Jared looking like he crawled out of a drain.

"I think it's cute," Jensen says, grinning even more widely. "In a schoolgirl crush kinda way. Jesus, how many did Mike pour into you before you agreed to that?"

Jared twists his face up slightly and groans, before burrowing himself deep into the bed. "Actually, it was kinda my idea. Did you know Mike's got a tattoo?"

"Oh really?" Jensen bites out. "He never showed me."

Jared giggles. "It's on his _bum._ Guess what it is?"

"God, don't tell me... a rose?" Jensen bites his lip and tries desperately not to laugh at his own dorky joke. The mound of blankets on the bed shakes a bit as Jared giggles again in that girly, high-pitched way of his.

"Funny, man. Actually, it's that trademark symbol. Get it?"

Strange, Jensen had never figured that about Mike and Tom. It did explain a few things, however. "And seeing that made you want one of your very own?"

"Yeah."

"Your funeral, man," Jensen said with a shrug, tossing Jared's clothes at him.

"Huh?"

"You're the one who gets to explain this to Kripke tomorrow."

Jensen's sure he hears a whimper from his bed as he heads to the bathroom to take a shower.

~*~

Jensen's not there when Jared tells Eric about the tattoo, but just after their morning meeting he's forced to put up with a trembling, white-faced Jared in his trailer moaning about how stupid he'd been and how he couldn't believe he'd done such an idiotic thing, and why hadn't Jensen been there to help him out the other night and stop him doing it?

"Oh, that's rich," Jensen mutters. "Now it's my fault you got trashed and got a fucking tattoo? Dude, that's something _college kids_ do."

Jared laughs slightly desperately. "Rub it in, why don't ya."

"Yeah, yeah I think I will. So what's Kripke gonna make you do?"

"He said he'd have to talk to makeup. See if it can be covered easily if I have to do any shirtless scenes."

"Dude, they're frickin' _makeup_. They're goddamned miracle workers. Kripke's just jerkin' you around."

"I guess," Jared sighed. "Making me wonder if it was worth it." He's leaning against the wall, wearing his best 'brooding Sam' expression, and Jensen laughs.

"I like it," Jensen says softly.

Jared looks at him, his eyes turning dark. "I thought you thought it was girly, Jen," he says. "Like I had a _crush_ on you or something." His Texas drawl is coming out, and Jensen shivers.

"How long we got before we gotta be in makeup?" he growls, advancing on Jared. He wants to see that tattoo again, wants to lick it and suck it and feel like it's real.

"Half an hour," Jared mumbles as Jared reaches him and starts fumbling with his belt buckle. "Fuck, Jen, what's gotten you so damned hot under the collar?"

Jensen doesn't answer; he leans forward and licks a warm stripe up Jared's neck, burying his nose in the dark curls and inhaling deeply. God, he loves Jared's hair, hopes the producers never decide to have it cut. Loves the way it gets everywhere, is always a tangled mess creating havoc for the hairdressers. It smells damp and warm, and Jared's squirming against Jensen as he bites Jared's ear and nuzzles his hair. 

"Dude, I swear, if those hairdressers cut your hair, I quit."

Jared laughs breathlessly, and Jensen buries his face deeper into the tangled mess. He can't get Jared's belt undone, and he's starting to get frustrated, nipping down hard on Jared's earlobe and almost groaning at the feel of his own cock pressed hard against his pants. Jared makes a soothing noise and Jensen feels a large pair of hands join his. The belt buckle finally comes loose, and Jensen's tugging at the zipper and yanking Jared's pants and boxers down to his knees.

"Christ, Jen," Jared gasps as Jensen drops to his knees and pushes Jared's shirt up. The tattoo is clear, stark and black against Jared's tanned hip, and Jensen ignores Jared's erect dick staring him in the face in favor of pressing his mouth against the tattoo.

"Jesus fucking Christ." Jared's head hits the trailer wall as Jensen licks and sucks at the mark. He can feel the heat of Jared's dick by his cheek, can smell his arousal, and all he can do is trace the line of Jared's tattoo with his tongue, going over and over the letters until they're branded on him. Jared wraps his hand around his cock and starts jerking off, gasping and moaning as Jensen leaves a burning trail on his hip.

Jensen sits back on his heels and looks up at Jared; and goddamn, what a sight. He's leaning against the wall like he's got no strength to stand up straight, his pants down by his knees and his shirt rucked up. It's almost obscene, and Jensen can't help palming his own cock as he watches Jared's huge hand wrapped around his dick, tugging it slowly.

"Are ya gonna suck me already, Jen? Or just stare?" Jared says, a gleam in his eyes. Jensen's tempted to stare, actually; the image of Jared jerking off is making him so damn horny, but then Jared's pushing his fingers into Jensen's mouth, opening it up gently and nudging his damp cock against his lips.

"Open wide, Jensen," Jared breathes, and Jensen's mouth falls open without a further thought. He almost chokes as Jared slowly pushes himself in; he holds his head still and strokes Jared's hips lightly, his right thumb circling the _J²_. Jared grunts softly as the head of his dick strokes the back of Jensen's mouth, and Jensen swallows convulsively, feeling drops of precome leaking out of Jared's dick and sliding down his throat.

It's harsh and wet and Jensen knows Kripke is gonna bag him out for sucking Jared right at the start of the day again; he's tired of one of his actors having a croak and the other mooning around all starry-eyed for hours, but Jensen doesn't give a damn because Jared's fucking his mouth now, jerking his hips back and forth as his fingers struggle to find a grip in Jensen's short hair.

"Dude, grow your hair," Jared gasps, his hips working faster. "Can't... fuck... can't get a proper grip."

Jensen laughs a little at the idea of approaching Kripke to petition for a longer-haired Dean, and Kripke's face when he gave his reason. Jared groans loudly as Jensen's throat vibrates around his cock, and Jensen reaches up and strokes his balls gently like he knows Jared loves.

"Fuck, Jen, gonna... wanna see you..." Jared pulls out, Jensen's lips slipping off his cock with a _pop_ , and then he's coming hard, hot streams painting Jensen's lips and cheeks, slipping off his chin and dripping on his shirt. Jensen tries to be angry; he feels so godddamn filthy, on his knees with Jared's come all over his face. He looks up through sticky lashes, brows furrowed, and sees Jared gazing at him with a hot look in his eyes.

Before he can say a word in complaint, Jared's on his knees, licking his own come off Jensen's face, like a fucking puppy. One giant hand goes down Jensen's pants and grips his cock hard, stroking roughly, and Jensen finds his tongue unexpectedly tangled with Jared's as he comes hard, all over the inside of his pants.

"Fuck," Jensen gasps as he falls back onto his heels, his pants hanging half-open and warm dampness seeping through the fabric. Jared looks obscenely pleased with himself, and Jensen decides he doesn't care about Jared coming all over his face anymore. Hell, he's come in worse places. He slowly becomes aware that Jared's standing up, re-fastening his trousers and passing Jensen a Kleenex.

"Dude, mop up, we gotta be in makeup in five."

"Uhnn," Jensen says. Jared giggles, and tugs on his arm, trying to get him on his feet.

"So, uh. I guess you got a tattoo kink or somethin'?" Jared muses.

"Fuck off," Jensen growls, feeling embarrassed that he acted like some kind of horny fifteen year old over two tiny little letters.

"Nah, it's cool, man," Jared breezes, squeezing Jensen's ass firmly. "I think I'd react the same, y'know? And you have a _very_ cute butt..."

~*~

Later that night, as Jensen lies face-down on the table in the tattoo parlor, he decides it's a damn good thing the show doesn't call for any ass shots, because otherwise Kripke might fire him.


End file.
